


Try And Take Him

by Tator



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gang, M/M, mafia, mafia!Greg, mafia!Harry, mafia!Zayn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tator/pseuds/Tator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your Horan boy is causing some trouble. Liam told me they’re starting to ask where he’s going at nights, and you know him, just never knows what to tell people when they have a gun to his head.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try And Take Him

Zayn watched as the smoke slowed wafted around the room. Taking another deep drag of the fag dangling between his fingers casually, he again watched as the poisonous gas seeped out from behind his teeth. 

There was a quick knock on his bedroom door, and he turned towards the sound, careful not to disturb his company. “Come in,” he muttered just loud enough for whoever was on the other side to hear. It must’ve worked because someone entered the next second. Zayn watched as his dear friend/ co-worker, Harry, stepped carelessly into the room. He almost rolled his eyes as he watched the lanky man throw himself into a chair near the window. 

“What’s this then?” Harry asked, obviously insinuating who was in the bed. Zayn looked down at the pale boy lying across his chest, how his limbs tangled with his own tan ones. Zayn didn’t bother a reply. “This has to be the third time this month you’ve had this little blond over for some . . . company. Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous having the enemy so close?” 

“No more dangerous than what you do with that Louis from the Doncaster gang. Didn’t think of you as one to play with little boys, Styles.” Zayn sneered in return. 

Harry shrugged, not minding the insults thrown at his now ten month relationship. “All I’m saying is, messing around with the Irish mob is a little more dangerous than a little gang that we could squash in a few hours.” 

“A few hours? You think that low of us? Or do you think highly of them?” Zayn pointed out. 

Harry shrugged again. “A few hours, a few minutes, no one really keeps track of time anyways.” 

“What do you want?” Zayn asked, becoming increasingly annoyed with the conversation. He suddenly missed the absence of sound that came with smoke filled lungs and deep, sleepy breathing. 

“Your Horan boy is causing some trouble. Liam told me they’re starting to ask where he’s going at nights, and you know him, just never knows what to tell people when they have a gun to his head.” Harry said leaning forward in the chair. Zayn silently mused that though the boy thought it made him seem more serious, it just reminded Zayn how truly young he was. 

“What did he tell them then?” Zayn muttered. He pulled the boy closer to his chest without realizing until he felt the other’s limbs start to twitch. 

Harry sat back again. “Just that whatever their precious little Niall was doing had nothing to do with us. Said he didn’t know a thing about any of it, couldn’t even pick the boy out of a line up if he tried.” 

“He’s getting better at lying then.” Zayn concluded. 

“Not good enough,” the Holmes Chapel native shook his head. “Greg wants a meeting with you tomorrow morning, and you know when he says he wants something, it’s best to give it to him.” 

Zayn sighed, looking down at the boy in his arms. His blond hair was tousled around his head, the faintest hint of red behind the pale skin on his checks, the nimble fingers resting on his chest. Everything about the boy just screamed innocence and purity, but the second he heard his brother’s cursed names that innocence swarmed into a hive of bees that stung. “What time is he getting here?” 

“With my guess,” the man shrugged for the fourth time in the hour. “Even with the traffic from outside of London, you have an hour and a half to make this place look it’s never seen an Irish.” 

Zayn nodded before sighing. “Give Louis my love.” Harry nodded before excusing himself out the door he came. 

He looked down at the boy one last time before stubbing out his cigarette. The movement caused the other to stir slightly. Zayn heard a groan which he had to laugh at. “Five more minutes,” he heard muttered into the skin of his collar bone. 

All he wanted to do was give his love the five more minutes he asked for, but he knew he couldn’t. “Greg will be here in a few hours.” 

Zayn caught onto the boy’s arm as he sprung straight up in fear that he would fly right out of the bed. Niall looked around frantically for a second, almost like he was expected Greg to be in the room with them. “Greg? Why is he coming? When?” 

“Don’t know, soon, I think. Probably coming to talk about you.” Zayn shrugged, cursing himself from picking up his friend’s habits. 

“I was careful though,” Niall’s eyes filled with panic. “No one knew that I even left.”

“You of all people should know that even the walls have eyes in London, dear.” Zayn murmured pulling the other boy back into his chest, hoping for a few more minutes of rest before having to deal with the day, but Niall seemed to have other ideas by springing out of bed and putting clothes on, which annoyed Zayn even more. “It isn’t that big of a deal, love. Nothing I can’t deal with.” 

“Greg doesn’t go anywhere, Zayn. People go to him. That means he’s serious, and I’m not going to be here when that happens. And if anyone asks, I was downtown with a pretty little red head and a bottle of scotch so raw it burns your throat on the way down.” Niall ranted, only looking up at the other towards the end. 

“Hey,” Zayn said, grabbing onto Niall’s hand. “Greg doesn’t scare me.” 

“He should,” Niall scoffed. 

“But, he doesn’t, so come back to bed. He won’t be here for a while anyways.” He pulled on the Irish boy’s hand until he slowly climbed back into bed with him. The body heat was nice, but Zayn couldn’t help but notice how the jeans didn’t seem to glide across his skin the same way pale skin did. 

“He can do horrible things, you know.” Niall muttered into his shoulder. 

Zayn kissed the top of his head. “He’s not going to take you away from me, so stop worrying.” 

Zayn felt the lips move on the junction of his neck, but he realized the fight must have left from behind his boy’s voice this morning. He sighed. He would have to fight more later, so best not try and start anything with the part of the Irish he actually liked. 

They lay in bed for a few more hours, well not hours. It might have well been, but in reality, they left bed after only one. 

Zayn wished that he never left the warm embrace of his soft sheets and his lover’s arms the second he walked into his office. The leather chair wasn’t as comfortable, and his clothes seemed to scratch against his skin the wrong way. He almost held the heels of his hands to his eyes to make sure they wouldn’t fall out as the time slowly ticked away at his desk. 

There was no work he could do while he waited for his unwelcomed guest, but he had to look like he was doing something. He ended up going over some finance reports from last month. They were already checked by his most respected people. All the errors were corrected. The people responsible for those errors also corrected, but he still liked to go over some of the numbers himself. An informed boss is a good boss. 

This time when the sharp knock on the door was heard he had no need to be soft with his reply, no need to be careful of waking anyone up. “Enter,” he said. If he didn’t know who was behind the door, he might have said it a little nicer, little calmer. But, he knew exactly was behind that door, so his voice came off cold, distant, harsh even. 

“Malik,” the man said as he entered the room. Zayn wanted to sneer at him, but then he remembered this was the family of the man he loved. And even though he didn’t know that, it was best not to piss him off. 

“Horan,” Zayn said briefly looking up from his papers. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“It’s come to my attention that you’ve had a recent visit from my brother, and I think I should make it very clear right now, that whatever you’re doing with him should better stop.” Zayn would like to think that Greg was trying to be intimidating. A few threatening words here and here might have stopped a few of his past enemies, but Zayn wasn’t that easily scared. And he happened to be a very good leader. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Horan,” he sighed. This was a waste of his time. “I haven’t seen your brother since I came to you after one of my men was rudely shot on my own territory.” 

“Your man had it coming,” the Irish man sneered. “And I have witnesses that say they’ve seen Niall here before.” 

“You and I both know that witnesses can easily be persuaded to say whatever someone wants. You remember the trial of ’08, don’t you?” Zayn finally put the effort into leaning back in his chair to look the man before him in the eyes. 

The older man growled before storming closer to the desk. Zayn stood up quickly, ready for a fight. He knew he had a good chance of winning any fight that may occur. “Listen here, you little punk,” Greg started now snarling. “I get that you’re a force that my family has to now deal with. I’m not happy about it, but I get it. You aren’t going away no matter how much we fight you. But if you so much as think that you’re going to lay a finger on my brother and the next head of the Irish mafia, you gotta another thing coming. So you better back off while you still have the chance.” 

Zayn stared at him, looked him dead in the eye before a large smirk grew over his face. “That’s cute,” he started with a chuckle. “Really cute. You think you can scare me away from getting what I want.” His smirk then turned to an icy glare. He slammed his hands down on the dark mahogany before pulling them back up to ring into the collar of Greg’s shirt. “Now you listen here, _you little punk_ ,” he pulled Greg in nice and close to make sure the point got across. “This is my city now, and as long as I’m breathing I own everything in it, which includes you and your puny little family you call a mafia. Meaning if I want you brother, your cousin, or even your own goddamn mother, I’m going to take them. And there isn’t a single fucking thing that can stop me. So, I would think twice before you disrespect me in my house again because next time I might not be so forgiving.”


End file.
